


Lance Stroll's Magic Handjobs

by BearWithAHat



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: AU where making out and jerking off your colleagues in 2020 isn't a public health threat, Finger Sucking, Getting Together, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Lance's hands look soooo soft, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, not gonna lie he ended up being somewhat of a tease here sjsjs, sleeping around sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearWithAHat/pseuds/BearWithAHat
Summary: In which Lance has nice hands and it gets him some action and a boyfriend eventually
Relationships: Esteban Ocon/Lance Stroll, Lance Stroll/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly/Lance Stroll
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	Lance Stroll's Magic Handjobs

**Author's Note:**

> alrighty so Lance has very big™️ hands that also look so so SO soft and so naturally I had to write porn about it because as someone with really little tiny baby hands, his hands are extremely sexy 😳❤️
> 
> also this is like a sequel to my George Russell's magic fingers fic, except not really because the relationships in it are different and they don't take place in the same au I guess sjsjs but enough rambling, here's some more bad porn from yours truly
> 
> im gonna be honest, this isn't the best thing I've ever written and im aware of it 👉👈 I finished writing this at 00:08 in the morning and didn't have the energy to proofread more than half of it jsjsj but nonetheless I hope someone enjoys reading my thirst over lance's hands

As someone who could afford the finest of the finer things in life, Lance had no issue with spending a considerable amount of money on hand lotion. He had expensive brands of lotion that he liked to use at home and on the road during the race season. For him, at least one bottle of hand lotion was always with him in the various hotels and other facilities that they holed up in at each race.

Lance's hands were always very soft and well cared for as a result; dry or cracked hands just wouldn't do for him.

One weekend, there was some kind of miscommunication with the hotel reservations, and he ended up without a room when they tried to check in. Lance was tired after the flight and not to mention jet lagged, and he just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. He sighed and rubbed at his tired eyes while Sergio asked the receptionist to search for his reservation again.

"Just forget it, Checo, I can try to find somewhere else to stay for the weekend," Lance assured his teammate with a weary smile. The older man gave him a concerned look and put a hand on his shoulder, seeming like he was about to say something when someone else clapped Lance on the shoulder.

"Just stay with me, it'll be like we're having a sleepover!" Esteban cheerfully offered. He seemed considerably more awake than Lance did, although Lance saw him struggle to hold back a yawn.

Lance smiled and pulled his friend into an embrace. He would much prefer to spend the weekend rooming with Esteban rather than having to try to find a different hotel that was nearby while also being away from everyone else.

Checo raised an eyebrow and fixed Esteban with a look that said 'hurt my practically adopted son and I'll skin you alive', and Lance laughed and let go of Esteban to pull him into a hug too.

"He's my friend, I'll be fine to spend the weekend with him," Lance murmured to him. Checo sighed and wrapped his arms around him, patting his back and giving Esteban one last glare over Lance's shoulder.

Lance smiled when Checo ruffled his hair fondly and gathered up his luggage, following Esteban up to his room. They were both tired and it was rather late at night, so they simply set their suitcases over against the wall and began to change for the night.

If it were anyone else aside from Esteban, Lance wouldn't have been fine with sharing a bed and stripping down to their underwear in the same room. His best friend was someone he felt comfortable enough around and he truly didn't have the energy to do anything other than shrug his pants and shirt off and toss them vaguely in the direction of his suitcase.

Esteban did the same and the two of them collapsed into the large bed without a second thought. Sinking down into the impressive amount of pillows was absolutely heavenly to Lance and he let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. He could feel Esteban shuffling around and looked over to see his friend settling down, facing the other way so that Lance was looking at the expanse of his back. Lance yawned and reached down to pull the blankets up.

“Your hands are soft,” Esteban remarked when Lance’s hand brushed against his bare arm as he pulled the sheets up over them. 

“Oh, thanks. I can’t stand it when my hands are dry so I guess I use more lotion than most people do,” Lance chuckled.

Esteban rolled over so that they were facing each other and shifted closer. He wordlessly reached for Lance’s hand and took it into his own, stroking his fingers over Lance’s palm. 

Lance smiled softly at the sensation of Esteban feeling each of his fingers, and in the soft glow of the lamplight, he could see Esteban's eyes trailing over his hand. There was something very intimate about the moment and Lance didn't understand the warm feeling that started in his chest and began to spread throughout his entire body. Esteban glanced at him for a moment and guided Lance's hand to press the Canadian's palm flat against his chest.

"I like your hands," Esteban breathed out. His skin was warm beneath Lance's hand, and Lance made no attempt to move his hand away. For a moment they just lay there like that, facing each other in bed and Lance's hand pressed onto his friend's bare chest.

"I don't know what to say," Lance said in a shaky tone. He wasn't sure how or why they were suddenly seeming to gravitate towards one another, but he didn't question it and wanted to see what would happen if he kept his hand on Esteban's chest, gently dragging it down the Frenchman's abdomen. 

"Then don't say anything," Esteban whispered to him, "just act." They leaned closer to one another and Lance thought Esteban was about to kiss him until Esteban pressed his lips to Lance's shoulder instead, pulling him closer and shuddering as Lance teasingly ran his hand up his side.

Esteban tangled their legs together beneath the sheets and Lance wasn't surprised to feel a warm hardness pressing against his thigh. He bit his lip shyly as Esteban trailed kisses all over his neck and shoulders, the feeling of his short stubble against the sensitive skin of his neck making Lance gasp quietly. Lance felt up Esteban's stomach and swallowed thickly when Esteban snaked a hand down to guide Lance's hand down to the waistband of his boxers, making it clear what he wanted.

"Are you okay with this?" Esteban asked in a breathless voice, pulling away from Lance's neck.

Lance was too far gone to come up with a verbal response and settled for nodding his head eagerly. There was no hiding the _developments_ in his underwear as he was just as intrigued as Esteban was, a little surprised at how much his hands appeared to turn his friend on.

"Good, your hands are so fucking soft," Esteban whined while Lance played with the waistband of his boxers.

As he brushed his hand over the bulge in Esteban's underwear, Lance tipped his head forward to kiss underneath his jaw. Esteban leaned his head back to give Lance further access, wrapping his arms around Lance's waist and clutching at his lower back. The needy sounds he let out made Lance shudder and he knew that his patience wouldn't last much longer.

Lance sucked another kiss onto Esteban's throat and slowly slipped his hand into Esteban's underwear, running his fingers over his thigh. He knew what Esteban wanted him to do and he admittedly wanted to do it too, but he wanted to tease him just a bit first. When he lay his hand flat over Esteban's thigh, Esteban got impatient and pushed his hips forward in attempt to get some much needed relief.

"Be patient, Este," Lance giggled against his skin. He felt Esteban lightly slap his back as he let out another desperate whine.

"Can you please just put your big soft hand on my dick already?" Esteban begged, tangling one hand into Lance's hair and tugging on the dark curls.

Lance grinned and murmured, "hope this won't ruin masturbating for you," before finally wrapping his hand around Esteban's cock. The drawn out moan that Esteban let out at the physical contact made Lance want to keep drawing more sounds of him, and so he ran his hand over the tip of his erection, teasing the head and making Esteban gasp and drape his leg over Lance's hip.

"Ah, more, please," Esteban was clearly having a hard time refraining from trying to push further into Lance's hand, and Lance began to stroke him with steady motions. Lance wrapped his hand fully around Esteban's dick and could feel himself getting uncomfortably hard in his own boxers as he began to speed up the motions of his fist, resulting in Esteban practically clinging to him and letting a plethora of obscenities fall from his lips.

As he rhythmically stroked Esteban, Lance couldn't ignore his own needs anymore and let his other hand gradually trail down to slip into his boxers. The noises Esteban made were the hottest thing he had ever heard, and Lance couldn't tear his eyes away as Esteban squeezed his eyes shut and screwed up his face with pleasure. Lance gripped his cock and began to firmly stroke himself in time with his other hand on Esteban.

He finally tore his eyes away from Esteban's obscene facial expressions and instead gazed at Esteban's body, a light sheen of sweat covering his toned stomach. Lance felt Esteban pull at his hair again and heard him let out a loud cry, coming into Lance's hand a second later and going limp beside him. 

The satisfied smile on Esteban's face was all it took for Lance to come a second later. He let out a shaky breath as he made a mess of his hand and his boxers, letting go of Esteban and wiping both of his hands on the sheets a second later.

The two of them lay on their backs, panting and looking up at the ceiling. Lance felt much more relaxed than he usually did after getting off and glanced over at Esteban to see him grinning back at him.

"Your hands are incredible, in case you didn't know," Esteban purred. He stood up and stretched, slipping his now dirtied underwear off and fishing a new pair out of his suitcase. 

Lance unabashedly watched him get changed, figuring that wasn't weird to do since he had been touching Esteban's dick a few minutes ago. He knew he should realistically get up and change too and probably take a shower while he was at it.

"Um, thanks," Lance laughed, "I didn't think you had a thing for hands." He got up and made his way into the bathroom, grabbing something else to sleep in on his way.

"Honestly, neither did I. I have a thing for your hands at the very least," Esteban gave him a wink as he crossed into the bathroom. 

Lance blushed and looked down at his hands, wondering if he really did have nice hands or if Esteban was just weirdly attracted to his hands. Either way, he fell asleep surprisingly quickly and was pleased that nothing was weird or awkward between them the next morning.

* * *

The next time his hands were the center of someone's attention was when himself, Carlos, and Pierre ended up on the podium. It wasn't what anyone had predicted the outcome of the race to be, but they definitely weren't complaining about it, and Lance personally felt like his day couldn't have gotten any better.

Standing up there with the two of them was one of the most thrilling feelings he had ever experienced, and the three of them all sat there for a moment, grinning at each other like fools. Pierre's smile was contagious and Lance couldn't help but beam up at the Frenchman as they buzzed with excitement over the race in what was one of few moments of private conversation before the media swallowed them up once they stepped down into the frenzy once more.

Lance put a hand on Pierre's knee when Pierre congratulated him once more, and he looked up to see a blush on his cheeks and a shy look on his face. Carlos stood up to leave and presumably go try to shoulder his way through the press, and it was then just the two of them. Pierre put his hand over Lance's and seemed like he was trying to say something.

"You _do_ have nice hands," Pierre murmured under his breath. Lance raised an eyebrow and felt slightly embarrassed as he assumed that for some reason, Esteban had said something about his hands.

"...what?" was all Lance could stammer out in return. 

Pierre jolted and took his hand away with a sheepish expression, looking away momentarily. He glanced down at Lance's hand, still resting on his knee in a friendly gesture.

"Um, can you come find me once things have calmed down?" Pierre asked in a quiet voice.

Lance nodded and had a feeling that he knew what was going to come of that. He gave Pierre a gentle touch on the shoulder as he stood up and made his way down into the eager arms of his team and the many questions that awaited him. Getting through media duties wasn't quite his favourite part of race weekends, but it hand to be done and Lance just did his best to answer the questions and get through it quickly.

He was relieved when he was done with that and wandered through the moving crowds of people, still feeling high from the thrill of the podium finish and also intrigued by Pierre. A small part of him was keeping an eye out for Esteban since Lance assumed that his friend had said something, and he wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed when he couldn't find him.

It ended up being a few hours before Lance found himself searching for Pierre. As he walked down the halls, his heart jumped in his chest and he was considering just giving up when a door creaked open behind him and he turned around to see Pierre peeking out.

Lance slipped into Pierre's room and was face to face with the Frenchmen, who's cheeks were flushed pink again. Pierre let out a soft noise and reached down to take Lance's hand, squeezing it and guiding him to put his hand on Pierre's cheek.

"I hope I'm not being too bold here, but...I heard that you have very good hands, and I was wondering if you would let me see if that's true," Pierre explained in a meek tone of voice. He almost looked like he was on the verge of tears and Lance smiled gently and pulled him closer with his other arm, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Come here," Lance said, leading Pierre over to the small, probably cheap sofa that was in the sparsely furnished room.

He sat down and pulled Pierre to sit in his lap, parting his legs so his thighs were on either side of Pierre and he could easily wrap an arm around Pierre's waist. Lance wasn't entirely sure of himself but he tried to remember what had made Esteban feel good and put it to good use with the newly crowned race winner, who was sitting in his lap and blushing heavily.

"So what did you hear about me, if you don't mind me asking?" Lance asked before starting to kiss Pierre's neck, steadily trailing kisses over his skin and rubbing the inside of Pierre's thigh invitingly.

Pierre swallowed and was clearly having a hard time keeping his composure. He leaned back against Lance's chest and tipped his head back to encourage him to keep kissing him, which Lance was perfectly happy to oblige. "Ah..just that someone said your hands were big and soft and that you were good at this kind of thing," Pierre managed to get out.

Lance didn't know if he should have been concerned that Esteban had told people about what transpired between them, but ultimately he decided that was a problem for another time since he had a very cute and also increasingly turned on Pierre sitting in his lap and begging for his attention. The soft mewling that Pierre kept making when Lance reached down to grope him through his jeans made Lance groan.

The bulge in his pants was pressed neatly against Pierre's back and the friction from Pierre squirming around in his lap combined with the borderline erotic noises he was making were only serving to make the situation in Lance's pants tighter. As much as he would rather not come in his pants and make a mess of himself, Lance also didn't want to not give into his own arousal and try to walk back to his room with a painful erection, and so he made no move to tell Pierre to sit still.

"Lance please, I need you to touch me," Pierre cried desperately, clutching at Lance's knee and shuddering in his arms.

"I am touching you," Lance murmured, continuing to cup Pierre through his jeans and rub his thigh. 

Pierre swallowed thickly and lay his head back onto Lance's shoulder, closing his eyes and parting his lips as he tried to push his hips forward into the inviting feeling of Lance's hand on him. He craned his neck to nudge Lance's cheek with his nose and reached up to tangle a hand into his soft hair. "You know what I mean," he whined.

Lance squeezed his thigh and messed with the button of his pants, trying to undo it with one hand but eventually having to use both. He wasted no time in unzipping Pierre's pants and pushing them down slightly to give himself better access to where Pierre wanted his hand.

The fabric of Pierre's boxers were damp in one spot as his dick leaked in anticipation, and Lance tantalizingly ran his finger over the thin material that covered Pierre's dick. Lance could feel the familiar warm feeling pooling in his stomach and he bit his lip and tried to keep quiet when Pierre let out a loud moan when he finally reached into his underwear.

He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and brushed his thumb over the warm, wet skin beneath his fingers. At first Lance didn't move his hand, letting Pierre get used to the feeling and pressing his lips to his neck once more. Pierre arched his back and did his best to spread his legs further, 

"Shit, your hands are really soft," Pierre groaned.

He gasped and tightened his grip on Lance's knee when the Canadian began firmly stroking him, his warm hand running up and down the length of his dick. Lance swiped his thumb over the sensitive tip and spread the precome over his fingers, eliciting sounds from Pierre that sent a chill down his spine. As he increased the movements of his hand and continued to stroke Pierre, Lance circled his other arm around Pierre's waist and couldn't stop himself from gently rocking his hips in time with Pierre's shaky movements, needing the friction on his own clothed erection.

"Fuck, keep going," Pierre panted, turning his head as best as he could to nuzzle his nose against Lance's neck. He pushed up into Lance's now slick hand and repeated his name over and over again, his whole body tensing as he got closer and closer to finishing.

The same tension was building up in Lance, and he let a soft moan slip out as he squeezed the base of Pierre's cock and felt the Frenchman wiggle his hips against his dick. Just like Esteban had, Pierre got a blissful look on his face and went limp in Lance's arms, letting out an animalistic noise as he released into Lance's hand. Lance stilled his hand over Pierre's dick and tried to get as much of his come on his hand as possible, figuring Pierre didn't want to soil his clothes.

Lance whimpered and rubbed himself against Pierre one last time before he felt the tension in his body release as he came in his pants. Pierre was out of breath and lay there in Lance's arms motionless for a few seconds before sitting up on his own when Lance pulled his hand away and out of his pants. 

He was going to wipe his hand on something when Pierre caught his hand in his own and made a show out of swiping his tongue over each of Lance's fingers with kittenish licks, effectively cleaning his own release off of Lance's hand and also making the Canadian blush profusely. The situation in Lance's pants was now getting sticky and uncomfortable but he couldn't tear his eyes away or attempt to move, too entranced by the sight and sensation of Pierre licking his hand.

Pierre shyly looked over his shoulder once he let go of Lance's hand, his lips slick and shiny. Lance smiled softly at him and patted his thigh, and Pierre grinned in return and kissed his cheek.

The two of them stood up and Pierre tucked himself away and did his pants back up. Lance grimaced and looked down at himself, thankful to find that at least there wasn't an obvious dark stain on himself, and his walk of shame would be a little less shameful.

"Thanks, your hands feel really good," Pierre murmured in his ear, planting another gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lance rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the ground, never sure how to respond to such praise. "Um, thank you," he settled for as he slipped out the door, "and congratulations, race winner."

As he shuffled his way back to his room in his uncomfortable predicament, Lance looked down at his hands. He didn't think there was anything too remarkable about his hands; it always felt good when he touched himself, but he supposed that just about anyone could say that about themselves. Lance trailed his index finger over his other hand and wondered what it was that others saw that he didn't.

Lance assumed that Pierre was the last person to want a handjob from him, and for a few weeks, it seemed like his suspicions were correct. Nobody else made comments about his hands or spent an abnormally long amount of time staring at his hand wrapped around a glass, or so Lance thought. That was fine with him, not that he hadn't enjoyed his trysts with Pierre and Esteban.

A few weeks later, he would end up being wrong about that, but Lance was more than okay with that.

* * *

The last person Lance ever expected to walk in on to find them getting off was Max. Originally Lance had gone into the bathroom to try and dry a spill off of his shirt, and it was while he was frantically dabbing at the hem of his shirt with a paper towel that he heard a soft moan, one which sounded quite like his name.

Lance drew in a sharp breath and slowly stepped toward where he heard the noise coming from. He knew he should have just knocked on the stall door but in his curiosity, his mind bypassed that step and just straight up pushed it to see if it would open, and sure enough he was greeted by the sight of Max with his back to him. There was no denying what the Dutchman had been doing given the distinct motions of his arm and the noises he was making.

"Um, Max?..." Lance blurted out.

Max jolted upright and looked over his shoulder, the expression on his face a mixture of guilt and surprise. He opened his mouth to say something and promptly closed it, an embarrassed red blush colouring his cheeks. 

For a moment Lance felt bad for not just quietly leaving when he had figured out what was going on. Deeper down, he started to become intrigued by the fact that Max had been apparently getting off to the thought of him and he wanted to tell him to keep going. Lance couldn't think of anything to break the intensely awkward silence that had come over them and he hoped Max either slapped him or said something quickly.

"Either get over here or leave," Max ordered him through gritted teeth, managing to give quite a threatening look for someone who had just been caught masturbating in a public restroom.

Lance decided not to think too hard about it and just went with his instincts, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut behind him. He was fully aware that someone else could have come in like he had but Lance didn't care as Max pulled him close and pushed him against the wall, capturing his lips in a kiss and taking him by surprise. 

Lance let Max part his lips and explore the inside of his mouth with his tongue. While they kissed, Lance felt Max take his hand and guide it down to the front of his pants, which were still undone from when Max had been touching himself. It was obvious what Max wanted and Lance was more than happy to give it to him.

He let out a soft moan against Max's lips and worked his hand into the Dutchman's undone jeans, finding them pushed down slightly along with his boxers. Lance fisted his other hand into the material of Max's shirt and wrapped his fingers around his hard cock, not bothering to go slowly at first. 

Max was clearly alright with his lack of patience, given the way he moved his body in time with Lance's movements and the pleased groans that he let out when he pulled away from Lance's lips. The heat of Max's body pressed against him was stimulating to Lance as he stroked him firmly, and Max looked at him with such a lustful gaze that made Lance wonder if he was going to need to come up with an excuse to go change his pants later like he did after his and Pierre's podium celebration.

"Fuck, Lance," Max moaned, closing his eyes and leaning forward to rest his forehead on Lance's shoulder. He reached up to tangle a hand into Lance's hair, his other hand going to grip Lance's waist. 

The feeling of Max tugging on his hair with every stroke of his hand made Lance gasp and tighten his grip on Max's cock. He gave him a few more firm strokes before Max shuddered and came into his hand with a shout, pulling sharply on Lance's soft, dark hair. 

Max let out a deep breath and stood up, buttoning up his pants again and picking up his belt, which had been dropped and forgotten on the ground. Lance stood with his back still against the wall and wasn't sure what to do. He was still painfully hard in his jeans but he felt like it would have been odd for him to try and relieve himself with Max still standing a few centimeters away from him, despite the fact that he had just gotten Max off.

"Were you saying my name before I walked in on you?" Lance asked in a quiet voice. He felt his cheeks flush pink when Max nodded his head like it was nothing.

"I wanted it to be your hand, not my own. Now stop talking," Max said, and Lance was confused until Max pressed a finger against his lips.

Lance eagerly parted his lips to let Max push his index finger into his mouth. It was the first time that someone who he had given a hand job to had made a deliberate effort to get him off too, and Lance knew that he would have done anything Max told him to in that moment. Max pushed a second finger into his mouth and Lance ran his tongue over them, the sound of him sucking on Max's fingers sounding quietly throughout the room.

"I had heard about you and those big hands, didn't think they were actually that soft but you proved me wrong," Max purred in his ear. The husky tone of his voice sent a shiver down Lance's spine.

Lance whined around his fingers and felt Max's other hand run teasingly down his chest, continuing over his stomach and to his groin, where he was still achingly hard. Max continued to mutter filthy things to him as he slowly undid his jeans. 

He waited for Lance to swipe his tongue over his fingers one last time before pulling them out of his mouth, leaving Lance's lips shiny with spit. Max pressed their lips together in another kiss as he reached down with his now wet hand to shove it into Lance's underwear and grasp his dick, earning a drawn out moan from the younger.

Lance instinctively rocked his hips forward to meet the tight heat of Max's hand, impatient and wanting more. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Max sensually kissed at his neck, trailing his lips down to suck at his collarbone as he stroked him lazily. Lance knew he wasn't going to last long but he found that he didn't care, only concerned with moving in time with Max's hand and gripping at the Dutchman's back.

"Your hands are fucking magical or something, I want you to touch my dick and put your fingers in me and put your hands on me as you fuck me every damn day I swear," Max groaned as he squeezed the tip of his dick, and that was what sent Lance over the edge. 

He cried out for Max and buried his face in his neck, holding onto him as he came into his hand. For a second, Lance wondered if he was just trying to talk dirty or if Max genuinely fantasized about him like that, which would make sense since he had walked in on him jerking off and moaning his name. 

Max smirked and winked at him before exiting the bathroom stall, wandering over to the sink to wash his hands. Lance watched him go and stood there breathlessly for a moment before he buttoned up his jeans again and went to wash his hands too.

"Not that I don't find it flattering, but I don't get why people think my hands are so hot," Lance confessed as they dried their hands off.

"Well, you have rather big hands," Max remarked. He took Lance's hand and pressed his palm to his own, and Lance noted that Max's hands were indeed a bit smaller than his were.

"They're also really soft," Max continued, lacing their fingers to properly hold his hand, "and what makes them most special in my opinion is the fact that they're _your_ hands."

Lance's breath caught in his throat and he looked at Max to find him looking back at him with a much more tender, intimate gaze than just a few minutes ago. He smiled and suddenly never wanted to let go of Max's hand. Max leaned against his shoulder and kissed his cheek, gentle and caring as if they were devoted lovers and not two people had just had a rushed hookup in a bathroom.

"Do you really mean that?" Lance asked, staring at the reflection of them in the mirror.

"Absolutely," Max responded sincerely.

As far as getting together stories went, Lance hadn't expected his to come from a hand job in the bathroom at a track. If he was being honest though, that was alright with him, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> to be honest I wanted to have a fourth pairing between Pierre and max but ultimately I couldn't think of somebody else to include and I just wanted to get this done 😔😔
> 
> but anyways, seriously go look and lance strolls hands; they are so pretty 🥰🥰 I was thinking of perhaps writing more fics like this where there's multiple sexy time scenes focused on a certain physical trait of someone, so if you have any thoughts or suggestions based on that, feel free to let me know.
> 
> you can find me on Tumblr @esteboo-ocon 🙈🙈


End file.
